Abstract Morals
by cassianaswindell123
Summary: Because not everything is black and white, and all too often people forget to see the countless shades of grey. Death Note AU in which it is not Light who picks up the Death Note, but L.
1. Chapter 1: Contemplation

Chapter 1: Contemplation

 _For the path to Hell is paved with good intentions._

A dark book tumbled, falling almost in slow motion amongst the ever mourning skies, raindrops streaming from the heavens, the tears of the gods shattering upon the pavement beneath the rumbling clouds. Now, there is a world, a world where this book drops into the hands of aspiring god, one who is begging to transcend the limits of this mortal realm. A world where in Japan an immortal is born, and a hero dies. A world where Good and Evil participate in a battle to the death, in an eternal dance between Heaven and Hell, in a desperate attempt to preserve Mu, the balance, the universe itself. This? This is not that story. And for in this world, a cart of apples were spilled. In this world, a Death God decided that there was good enough. In this world, there is no Hero, no Savior, no Knight in shining armour. In this world, there is none, for instead he is the Villain, the Antagonist, the Harbinger. And reality _twisted_.

The dreary London atmosphere added a forlorn and forbidding aura to the scene, the air muggy with the ever present moisture. A man, dark hair, dark eyes, dark shadows beneath his eyes, sat hunched, curled within a chair as he typed robotically away at a keyboard, surrounded by dozens of lit monitors filling the room with their cold dim glow. The room was dark, shadows reaching from every corner, constantly clawing at the crevices of the dark man's mind. A single window was present within, supplying the room with the endless patter of rain, and the constant chill that permeated Britain steeped itself in his bones, slowly freezing him from the inside out. It was by chance that, when the man glanced sidelong out the window to gauge the time, a raven book fell, its pages fluttering wildly in vain. It was by chance that, deciding his eyes could use a break from the straining of endless black text upon the searing white screens, he stood, shambling his way down his tower of solitude and stepped outside. And it was by chance that, seeing the muddied journal, he bent over awkwardly to lift it up, his eyes scanning the cover furiously. It _was_ by chance, was it not?

L stared down at the small book in his hands, so grandly titled " _DEATH NOTE_ ". He rolled his eyes at the opening pages, irritated that someone would be so _childish_ as to attempt to partake in some form of infantile game with him, dropping such an obviously illegitimate notebook amongst the endless rain. He looked up, his eyes searching in vain for a glimpse of any intruders upon the property, but be made his way inside once more when any such being failed to present itself, eager to escape from brisk winds and chilling rain. He swore silently to himself that he would ask Watari to examine the cameras for their anonymous trespasser. If nothing else, it could present a temporary distraction from the monotony of casework. He slowly, heavily, climbed the stairs once more, his thoughts unwittingly returning to the filthy compilation within his arms. He perched himself precariously upon his creaking chair, and contemplated.

 _It would… cause no harm to simply… play along, would it not? It is perhaps, no, most certainly, a practical joke of some sort, but even still it shall itch at my mind and reduce my mental capacity by approximately 4% until I can prove that there is, without a shadow of a doubt, nothing of substance nor truth to this notebook._ With a nod of satisfaction at his own expert utilization of logic, L opened the notebook, lay it out before him on the desk, and booted up his computer once more.

A/N: Thanks for checking out this story, which was based around a prompt I got in creative writing class to write a story where your favorite hero is instead a villain, or vice versa. Enjoy and review!


	2. Chapter 2: Condemnation

Chapter 2: Condemnation

 _For you either die a hero, or live to see yourself become the villain._

L absently scrolled through a list of prisoners on death row, _just in case_ this hoax held even a grain of truth. He ignored the voice at the back of his head,which chimed, _for if you truly believe there is even a decibel of a percentage of a chance that this is not some silly lie, not some morbid game, then you are going into this with the intention of committing murder, and isn't attempted murder illegal, or at the very least immoral? Are you not making a decision that shall make you yourself a criminal, one of the fallen?_ L ignored the voice. He always did. How could he not when he, on a daily basis, was forced to determine who lived and who died, calls of life and death, of grace and damnation, because there was no one else able, no one else capable. This was not a matter of peas and nuts*, nor of mice and men, but of a blatantly false journal, that of which some as of yet unseen intruder apparently wished to impress upon him and leave to do with as he will. _Then why are you even humoring them, and playing this silly game?_ To this, L had no response. None but perhaps that of human curiosity, and even that was an argument which lacked a backbone of any sort to reinforce his ridiculous notion. Even so he carried on, determined to see this through to the end.

He stared solemnly at the face and name of one Henry Whitfield, and quickly scrawled the name on the Death Note's pages while his nerve still held. With a deft movement, L moved to another monitor upon which he pulled up live footage of every jail cell at the Oakwood Prison. Changing the screen to show only Whitfield's cell, he rolled back to his original monitor, only to see movement at the corner of his eye. He watched with bated breath as Whitfield gasped and choked, clawing desperately at his chest in vain. He watched as Whitfield collapsed. Watched as the prison's paramedics entered the room minutes later when a guard on watch noticed the corpse. Watch as Whitfield was pronounced dead. L watched. Yes, he always was good at that. Still, he had to be sure. L did not believe in coincidences, but for this he would make an exception. For once, he would test his hypothesis a few more times. One trial does not a theory make.

Eleven, on the other hand, most certainly did. Especially when the murd... _trials_ following the first took place in a variety of nations, too great a distance for a hitman or assassin to traverse. The theory was flawless, lacking in any anomalies or loopholes, and the notebook was, to the best of his knowledge, legitimate in every way and form. L tilted his head to the side in a distinctly feline motion. "Oh." He murmured, voice breathy and full of disbelief; his eyes were wide, his pupils blown. "Oh…" He whispered once more, his lips caressing the sound delightedly. His mouth curled into a small smile, saturated with satisfaction and elation alike. "Oh!", He repeated, thrice for good measure, as something sounded from his wildly beating heart, some immeasurable pleasure coiled within his chest rumbled in a contented manner, proud, victorious. He threw back his head and, with a sound like the pealing of a great many bells, laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, till he was breathless, crouched on his knees and gasping for air, lungs heaving for a single breath of life. Only then did the ringing give out, and his endless laughter fade. Even so, a wicked grin still grew, wider and wider, across his face as he trembled with glee. Because he had been so tired, so _bored_. And this? This was new, was interesting, was _different_! And L experienced two new firsts that day. For as the first genuine smile he had ever experienced crept across his face, he, for the first time in his life, felt truly alive.

*There is a riddle/dilemma in which two men go out to luncheon, and one of the men secretly hates the other. This man decides to kill the other man by dropping a dressing packet with nuts in his salad, which he believes his lunch partner is deathly allergic to. The man eats the the salad and has an allergic reaction, but his autopsy shows that it was not an allergic reaction to the nuts that killed him, but that the man was secretly allergic to cranberries, instead. Should the man who put the nuts in his food be charged with murder, attempted murder, or walk home free?

A/N: I'm having a ton of fun writing this story so far, and I hope ya'll get at least half as much enjoyment from reading! Also, I will make the same promise to ya'll on this story as I did on my other major story, _Hoshi_. I may go on temporary hiatuses and what not over the course of writing this story, but I will not abandon this story until it is complete.


	3. Chapter 3: Conception

Chapter 3: Conception

 _True evil is, above all things, seductive._

L sighed. Though the book was indeed a novel concept, he was unsure of how to proceed from here. He had no intention of doing anything so pure as "cleansing the world", or some other such nonsense, but neither did he wish to kill without abandon, a senseless murderer. He supposed that simply disposing of the notebook was also an option, but it was one he would prefer not to take. This was the first point in his lifetime in which he had stumbled across something his mind could not explain, dissect, denature. So much could be gained from further experimentation, pushing the bounds of possibility to its limits, and beyond. Still, should he be caught, he would be prosecuted and executed without a second thought. Was his boredom so great that he was willing to throw away the lives of others to sate it? L eyed the Death Note once more. Then nodded to himself. Yes. Yes, it was. Besides, caught? By whom? He was the best of the best, L, Coil, and Deneuve all in one. The possibility of there being another who could match him thought for thought was highly illogical, as well as improbable. Yes, he was safe, secure in his knowledge that he was without equal.

~Linebreak~

A continent away, Light sneezed. "Bless you!", chimed Sayu. "Oh, I hope your not coming down with something right before the exams, Light", Sachiko fretted. Light raised an eyebrow fondly. "Don't worry Mom, I'm fine. It was nothing." Sayu grinned. "Oh, oh, people sneeze when people are talking about you! Maybe there's a cute girl daydreaming about you right now!"

~Linebreak~

L shook his head to dislodge that line of thought. Still, he must hold some form of end goal to work towards, else he would be aimless, adrift once more. Hmm… Yes, perhaps that would work. If a name and face is all that is required to end someone's life, he could kill careless criminals. Over time, criminals would gravitate towards organizations such as the Yakuza and Mafia for protection, which would lead to these organizations enforcing new requirements to keep their faces and names hidden. This would in turn cause a rise in the underground criminal network, and a new generation of more intelligent, stealthy, and cautious criminals. It was Social Darwinism at its finest. The criminals who presented no challenge would quickly die off, leaving only the competent remaining. Perhaps then he would finally have a worthwhile challenge. Yes, that would be sufficient for now. He could always reevaluate his goal at a later date. L blinked as he heard the rain stop, and he turned towards the window, staring down at the Death Note within his hands. L gazed coolly upon the dark omen for a moment's time, then shifted his sight to the slowly sinking horizon beyond; the sky stained and smeared pastel by the setting sun. Softly he spoke, in a hushed voice, to the dark deities ever watching.

"They say that you either die a hero, or live to see yourself become the villain." A wicked grin crept slyly across his face. "And I? I have no intention of dying _anytime_ soon."

A/N: I'm psyched about the great response this story has received so far, and I hope ya'll continue to enjoy. Please review, every message matters!


	4. Chapter 4: Condescension

Chapter 4: Condescension

 _It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways._

"Hyuk, Hyuk, Hyuk…" L froze as deep laughter sounded out from behind him. He whirled around in alarm, collapsing to the floor; he lay sprawled there with wide eyes at the sight before him. "Hyuk, Hyuk, Hyuk…" The dark chuckling rang out once more. It emanated from a tall, lanky creature, with hunched shoulders and a clown like face. Its mouth was stretched into an unnatural grimace, countless daggers lining its gums; its eyes, sickly yellow orbs staring intently at L or, to be specific, the Death Note within his grasp.

"So", the demon intoned, "You found my gift, hmm? Well? How have you liked it?"

L narrowed his eyes at the abomination, unsure of how to react.

"It has been very… entertaining thus far."

The monster's grin widened in glee. "Hyuk, Hyuk. I'm glad. I hope you put it to good use. Oh! But where are my manners? You can call me Ryuk."

"Hmm. What exactly are, and what are your intentions? If you are here for the Death Note, I will admit that I am unfortunately... _reluctant_ to part with it."

The newly dubbed 'Ryuk' chuckled once more.

"Hehe. How cute. It _is_ rather easy to get attached to, huh? And I'm a God of Death, a Shinigami, a Grim Reaper. Take your pick, its all the same to me. Don't worry. You can keep the Note, the second it touched the ground I lost ownership of it, and as soon as you picked it up it became yours. I'm impressed, though. That's an awful lot of names for just three days. You sure have been busy writing their lives away, Lawliet."

L, who had been in the midst of standing up, tumbled to the floor once more, face frozen in disbelief and fright and hands subtly trembling. He spoke up with a quiver. "H- How do you know that name? No one other than Watari knows that name, so _how did you-_ "

Ryuk tilted his head in curiosity. "Oh? Is it some kind of secret or something? Well, it's my eyes, ya' see. Shinigami eyes can see anyone's name and the date of their death. All it takes is a glance at their face. Hyuk, Hyuk, Hyuk."

L's hands clenched into white knuckled fists, clearly displeased at this information.

"I… see. Is there perhaps a way to… circumvent your eyes? I must admit, should I encounter another with such an ability, it would be quite… detrimental to my health, to say the least."

Ryuk looked up at the ceiling in consideration. "Hmm… Well, yes, I suppose. So long as they can't clearly see your real face, they can't know your name. Is that any help?"

L dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed. Is there anything else of importance that I should be aware of?"

"Nah, but I do have a question. Got any apples?"

The shinigami cackled at the baffled look on the pale human's face.

A/N: Ugh, I feel like Ryuk came out badly, but I'm not sure how to write him better. Any tips? Also, I'm thrilled at the number of follows, reviews, and favorites I got from ya'll! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you like or dislike about the story, and if you have any ideas for the story. I can't promise they will be implemented, but I can promise I'll at least take a look!


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